


Loure

by blanketed_in_stars



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Canon, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 18:20:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6577399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blanketed_in_stars/pseuds/blanketed_in_stars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If James hadn’t been looking, he wouldn’t have seen the flash—a little thing, nothing more than the night glinting on a bit of brass or bronze or glass: the sort of glimmer anything could have caused—and he would believe that the yard was empty. But he was looking. He did see it. And he knows that Will is waiting for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loure

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Palebluedot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Palebluedot/gifts).



> Hey Audrey, you're having a hell of a rough time all things considered so I thought that, since you just went to prom, this was a fitting way to say i'm thinking of you <3
> 
> Also, a disclaimer for the general public: I did some research on dancing around the 1730s and decided that it didn't at all work with what I wanted to write, so I threw it out the window. However, the title is, to the best of my (limited) knowledge, period-appropriate.

If James hadn’t been looking, he wouldn’t have seen the flash—a little thing, nothing more than the night glinting on a bit of brass or bronze or glass: the sort of glimmer anything could have caused—and he would believe that the yard was empty. But he was looking. He did see it. And he knows that Will is waiting for him.

He slips away from the celebrations as quietly as he can. Through the crowd, in the direction of the privy, a quick left, then a right—and he’s out the back, pulse fast from the wine and eyes slightly blind in the sudden darkness. He takes the long route to the yard to make sure he’s alone, presses the unlocked gate, and steps inside.

“I wasn’t sure you saw,” Will says from somewhere to the left. Only the barest hints of his face are illuminated by the moonlight, which is colder than the golden chandeliers in the governor’s home but clearer, fairer. “Even if you did, I wasn’t sure you’d be able to make an escape.”

James drinks in the sight of him as he edges closer. “I was prepared to feign illness,” he confesses. The sound of the festivities is still spilling from the open doors and windows, the chatter and music mingling with the hum of insects and the distant roar of the sea. “I didn’t fancy breathing that perfume for much longer.”

“Oh,” Will says, and takes a step nearer, “and here I thought you were coming to me, not running away from them.” A smile plays at the edges of his mouth.

From inside the house, the band begins a slower song. James takes the final steps to close the distance between them and, secure in the shadow of the night, kisses him. “They’re one and the same,” he murmurs, “but if you were in there with me, I could bear the worst of the stench without flinching.”

Will laughs once, his breath tickling James’s face. “I believe it’s called fragrance.” He moves closer still, so there’s barely an inch between them. “Pretend we’re inside,” he suggests. “Dance with me.”

Out of habit, James goes stiff, but he knows they’re all but invisible here in the corner of the yard, at the very fringe of the grounds. He wrestles with his sudden, surging fears, beats them down, because Will is here and the night is sweet and cool. James’s heart quickens in a way that has nothing to do with the wine. He guides Will closer, adjusting his hands, holding him near.

“Have you made me the woman?” Will asks as they begin to move, James leading.

James nods. “I didn’t think you knew the dance.”

Even as close as they are, it’s hard to make out Will’s expression. “I don’t,” he says. “I just wondered—” He stops, shakes his head. “Never mind.”

“What is it?” James asks. He turns them in a slow circle, careful to stay within the darkest shadows.

Will gives a small sigh. “Do you—do you dance often?”

James frowns. “You know I do.” It comes with the position, as do the long absences and expensive swords. There must always be a show.

“I know,” Will agrees, “but—who do you dance with?”

“Many people,” James says. “I’m a captain now, it’s expected, and with the right partner it’s not so bad—” It’s his turn to break off, noticing the way Will glances at him—he’d been watching their feet, but now he looks up, his eyes catching the silvery moonlight like pale-tipped waves. “What is it?” he asks again, and tries to put his earnestness into the press of his hand.

There’s a short pause, in which the music swells and James listens hard, as if he could make Will speak through determination alone. “Ten, fifteen women in a night,” Will says at last, almost too quiet to hear, “and in almost two years we’ve never danced before.”

A burst of clarity nearly makes James stumble, and along with it comes a rush of love fierce enough to stop the tides. Somehow he keeps his footing, keeps them moving in their steady course.

Before he can reply, Will says, “It isn’t important,” and his voice is quick, almost embarrassed. “I know it’s only dancing.”

James feels the beat of their hearts in their chests pressed together and their fingers entwined. He’s breathing Will’s air, bending with his body, and every step they take, they take as one. “Only dancing?” he repeats. He tightens his grip and shakes his head. “I may have made these steps dozens of times,” he says, “but this dance, here, with you, I have only ever danced once.”

Will’s feet falter slightly, and he leans in to keep his balance. He looks automatically at James, and the smile is back, or the hint of it, in the tilt of his lips. “I love you,” he says, soft, like a secret.

James can’t say it back, though he wants to; the words are the bottomless black whose siren song promises to break him against the rocks. The music ends, and he brings them to a stop, still fit together at every seam of their bodies and swaying with the last long, high note, and yet—he can’t say it. But he can, and does, lean in and kiss Will’s mouth where the smile now crests.


End file.
